Playing Pretend
by TheIllustriousMadamRed
Summary: He's Patrick Jane. the most infuriating man on the planet who causes more than his fair share of trouble for her with his loose grip on the concept of the law. She's Teresa Lisbon, the staunch enforcer of the law, determined to make the world better as much as she can. they want similar things, but they're incompatible. But sometimes it's nice to pretend.
1. Chapter 1

_*Authors note: Hello out there ;) my first M rated fic, i'm so very excited. and i'd really like to know what you think, so drop me a line :D_

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Need is something that you can very rarely deny. It is a consuming thing. One that gradually eats away at your insides until all you can think about is that craving, that need.

She shouldn't need him. that much she knows. She shouldn't need to touch his skin and see his eyes just as much as she requires air or sunlight. He isn't right for her. She knows he isn't. It should be a thing of logic. as easily discarded as other things that have hurt her in the past.

Patrick Jane is a rude arrogant man, always manipulating her and her team to get what he wants. That much she's never deluded herself about. But yet, if he were gone, She'd feel like sunflowers suddenly thrust into darkness. As if she's been deprived of something important, something essential.

It's painful to admit he has a place inside of her heart. Hurts her to know he doesn't feel the same, to know that no matter how she feels there is nothing good that can come of her sill infatuation with him.

But….But she knows that she can dream. Here in her house, alone in the dark, alone in her bed. She could pretend.

Pretend that when he smiles at her it's always a real smile. That the charm he uses on her is real. That she's important instead of just another mark in his long con to catch Red John.

Sometimes when he stands just that little bit too close she'll steal the sensation and squirrel it away to torment herself with later. Subconsciously she'll lean in just that tiny bit closer when he's distracted; she'll inhale and catch a whiff of his scent. Clean and fresh with an elegant cologne and the faintest hint of mint, sometimes it's maddening for her self-control not to lean over and bury her nose against his throat and just breathe him in.

On rare occasions he'll take her hand. But she keeps that contact brief. She's seen how good he is at reading people, especially through careful examination of their pulse. It'd kill her if he knew.

She took a lot from him, could take everything he dished out. His mercurial mood swings from happy into selfish and surly, that impish demeanor that can so quickly turn into morose. His more or less constant slight condescension towards her and the team, and humanity in general. Even his when he gets her in trouble, or when he prods and probes into her personal life.

But if he used this, if he took this foolish little need and turned it against her, it could very well break her.

No. they are not meant to be together. He isn't the handsome prince in shining armor and she isn't the damsel in distress. She knows that they cannot be.

But sometimes it's nice to pretend.


	2. Chapter 2

Morning comes, and with it a sense of purpose. There is always a case, always something to throw herself into so that she can forget about him. for a little while anyway. Whilst it isn't pleasant knowing someone has died in order for that work to be there, she cannot help but be grateful that it is.

But as she strolls into work, much earlier than usual,

She spots him. For a moment she cannot decide if the universe is punishing her, or taking pity on her. Because in front of her, across the bullpen, sprawled on that aged brown leather couch he loved so much, is a very cute, very much asleep Patrick Jane.

She freezes in the door frame. Her breath catches in her throat. His hair is messy, sticking up in odd places. It should make him look ridiculous, or merely cute. But instead the disheveled nature of the blonde curls reminds her instead of what it might look like after a fierce full body grinding kiss.

His face is surprisingly peaceful, the chiseled lines somewhat relaxed in slumber. usually there is always a hint of joviality to him, but also a hint of mocking. But now he appeared peaceful.

Her gaze is drawn to his mouth. that delightfully expressive pair of lips, partially parted as he breathed. It was a thing of fascination for her, able to contain and convey so many different expressions. Sometimes it curved in a sneer, contempt dripping out of every line. Sometimes, in a moment of weakness when he didn't think anyone was looking, it belied the weight of his grief. Other times those delicate lips formed a bright wide impish smile, when she'd caught him at something he shouldn't be doing.

But his best smile, the one she favored most, was a small smile, barely a curve of the lips. It appeared when she did something unexpectedly sweet and caught him off guard, or when he did something for her without trying to get anything back. It appeared without fail when dealing with children. it wasn't a planned smile, too real, too rare and far too honest to be faked.

The things she'd dreamt of with that mouth. those damnably soft looking lips that practically begged to be kissed, to be licked. Around his mouth and his sharp jaw was the faintest sign of stubble. For a brief moment she wondered what it would be like to rub her fingers against it, to have such roughness rub across her face.

From there her gaze wandered down the long line of his throat. How many times had she wanted to throttle him? probably almost as many times as she'd wanted to bury her head in his shoulder and let the warmth of him calm her. his collar was open, the pale blue business shirt unbuttoned further than it usually was, exposing his chest to her enraptured eyes.

The soft sunlight highlighted the almost invisible curls of blond hair scattered across his chest. She could see the lines of definition, he'd kept himself fit enough to take out Red John when he had to. But knowing he kept himself fit was different to seeing it laid out before her like some illicit feast. His vest, a dark navy blue, was still buttoned for the most part. If his business shirt was unbuttoned further she'd never know it.

One pale dexterous hand lay resting against his chest, the other barely brushed the floor. His hands were one of the more intriguing things about him. he could make them dance, steal things away and replace them with barely a gesture. Help and Harm in great quantities contained within such delicate looking hands. As she stared, she could measure his breathing by the gentle rise and fall of his resting hand.

Her gaze swept over the rest of his body, over the dark grey slacks that should have been illegal to wear in the presence of any warm blooded woman. They flattered his long legs, and had given her imagination way too much to work with. his feet were propped up on the arm of the couch. He was the very picture of dishevelment.

How could that couch be comfortable to sleep on?

He shifted slightly, and with a start she realized that she'd basically spent an unknown amount of time ogling him. A hot embarrassed flush heated her cheeks and she turned, making her way back to the small kitchen as quietly as she could.

At least no one had seen her doing so, especially not him. for once being a bit of an insomniac had it's benefits.

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_Authors note: i'm trying to balance two assignments and exam, so forgive me if i'm a little slow getting these written and posted, have no fear, i wont leave you hanging ;)_

_Also, please let me know what you think, i'm very interested to hear your opinions :D_

_~Madam red_


	3. Chapter 3

When she's safely in the kitchen, or at least what passed for a kitchen in the CBI station, she spies his tea resting above the coffee makers, near to the sugar. She could just make her coffee, go back to the office and start her day as if nothing had happened. Or she could be nice, could bring him some tea. As she considered it, her fingers made the decision for her, seeking out the small box with unerring aim.

Usually he was awake before she got here, pretending that he'd come in earlier than she did. She knew better however. If he could manage it, he would sleep there. To see that he was still sleeping was troubling. Had his nightmares been especially bad last night?

She wasn't a fool, she knew no matter how well he acted and how much he pretended, he wasn't alright. But he seemed desperate to present that ever laughing, sarcastic image to the world. As if pretending he was fine would actually accomplish it.

So she let him. She didn't have the heart to fracture that for him.

With careful almost practiced motions she made the tea to his specifications. The sound was somewhat soothing, coupled with the gentle refreshing smell of the mint. For a moment she understands why he might drink such a thing, and is almost tempted to herself. But as a certified coffee addict she knows better than to shock her body with something new this early in the morning.

It took more effort than she'd thought it would to walk quietly and still balance the tea cup and saucer. She placed it just out of reach so that he wouldn't accidentally knock it over when he woke.

She swept her gaze over him once more and spied a blanket at the end of the couch, carelessly thrown to the floor. He must have had need for it last night, and in his nightly troubles tossed it to the ground. before she could think it through she picked it up and carefully settled it over him. the blanket itself was coarse against her fingers as she gently tucked it around him. it was imperative that she didn't wake him. She was barely inches from him now, and if he woke she'd be pathetically easy to read.

Part of her practically demanded that she just lay down beside him, tuck herself against him and steal what warmth she could and damn the consequences. Instead she fled to her office, trying like hell not to listen to that altogether too tempting suggestion.

It is only when she's sitting behind her desk that she realizes in all her efforts to make him comfortable she has left her coffee sitting on the counter top, probably cooling rapidly.

Damn that man.

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_Authors note: I can only apologize for delays. On the plus side my main group project is done, that's one 45 minute speech i never have to think about again ;)_

_anyway, please let me know what you think :)_

_~Red_


	4. Chapter 4

Patrick Jane is invading her mind. She knew from the moment she met him that she would be affected by him. but she never thought that it would be to this degree. She'd been talking to a potential witness/suspect inside their house when it had started to rain.

He'd amazed her, speaking in circles, leading their poor subject further and further down the rabbit hole and gathering more information than she'd expected. But he did that quite often, no matter how many times she told him not to. Though she shouldn't admit it, he was comforting in his deception. She could usually count on him to spin a tale for her, and it meant that sometimes, very rarely, she could indulge in just listening to him.

He spoke fast, and part of her thought that might be to stop the lies and half-truth's from catching up, as long as he spoke fast he could outrun them. he was like a circus performer, balancing atop a precariously balanced chair. if he wavered, if he slipped then the whole illusion would fall apart and he'd come crashing down.

In the end, he was successful, and they left with more knowledge than the unfortunate subject wanted to give out. They glided out onto the wooden veranda of the woman's house.

It happened quickly, so quickly in fact that she couldn't even be sure how it happened.

Perhaps she could blame it on the rain? Instead of her hormonally charged mind being distracted by the sight of Patrick Jane getting soaked by said rain and what fun might possibly be had after such an event.

As she'd stepped down from the veranda her foot had slipped on the slick wood. She'd pitched forward with a startled gasp of air and in a brief second her body had prepared her for the worst. Her eyes blinked closed, her hands coming forward to take the brunt of the impact to protect her delicate head. Hitting the ground would hurt.

Except it didn't.

It was soft and yielding instead of hard and stubborn. Her eyes opened almost instantly and instead of looking at the ground, she was staring into his eyes. those beautiful vibrant eyes that she could see held every inch of amusement he could muster, and a tiny bit of concern. It only took a second for her brain to figure out that he must have heard her gasp and caught her.

How terribly cliché.

His mouth widened in a grin, and a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. Their faces barely inches away. if she were a little braver and a little less rigid she could have leant over and pressed her lips against his.

"Careful Lisbon."

She blinked, the barest brushing of dark lashes against pale skin as he righted her on her feet. "Thank you." she murmured, still caught off guard by his sudden closeness.

"Mind somewhere else today?"

"On the case."

The words were soft and short as she stepped out of his grip and took off towards the car.

God. she hoped he hadn't seen the thoughts inside her mind. despite the fact he claimed psychics were frauds he did have the ability to read people alarmingly well. and he was unbearable enough knowing that she considered him a friend.

She settled herself behind the wheel of their standard issue police SUV. The black sleek design a favourite for most law enforcement officials seemed rather comforting to her. Would he question further? Would this be the moment that he pressed and she fell apart and showed him everything?

But when he joined her in the car he made no mention of her near fall, or her strange behavior. Just turned the conversation elsewhere and had her chuckling within moments.

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_Authors note: So i hope you're all enjoying this so far :)_


	5. Chapter 5

The case took them to a glitzy, gaudy casino. And she disliked it almost immediately. If the noise wasn't enough the sheer abundance of well formed attractive women acting as if they hadn't a single brain cell in their heads set her teeth on edge.

They'd arrived to speak with the casino manager, who insisted on making his rounds as they talked. But though she gave him her attention, there was a small part of her constantly aware of Jane.

There was nothing so painful, she thought, as infatuation unrequited. Nothing more painful to her in this moment than to watch him flirt with the pretty blonde bombshells. To know that he could easily take them to his bed and have something that she never could. And she can tell she's attracted to her, she may not be a potential psychic in the making, but she has picked some things up from his somewhat sarcastic teachings. His attraction is practically written all over him.

She struggles to keep her mind focused, to pretend that she doesn't feel ice like fingers around her heart, threatening to break it. but she is first and foremost a police officer and she performs as such. She questioned the manager with barely a break in her rhythm. And she gets some solid information before she leaves. She should be satisfied.

But jealousy is an ugly emotion, and it damn near chokes her as they leave him behind to flirt with the admittedly attractive woman.

Later that afternoon, the team don't understand why she's suddenly a little sharper, why she's throwing herself even harder into this case, almost as if she's desperate to be done with it. and since Jane was still suspiciously absent with the blonde, he wouldn't be able to enlighten them.

She wanted to go home and sleep it off. To restore a kind of equilibrium. But they had a murderer to catch, and catching killers always came before emotional turmoil.

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_Authors note: Thank you to all the guest reviews :) if i could reply to you individually i would, but it wont let me, so i'll say it here. thank you :)_

_*also, i know it's short, i'm trying to write this in between two major assignments and an exam, so i'll try and make the next one a bit longer or a little sooner :D*_

_please continue to let me know what you think :)_


	6. Chapter 6

Police work is never easy. Even on the good days she is still haunted by the thought of the ones they haven't caught yet, the monsters still roaming free. Some cases are harder than others, and sometimes they don't end neatly, they don't end the way she'd want them to. In the end, they'd caught the murdering bastard, but not before he'd taken another set of victims. Not before he'd embroiled her in a bloody shootout that could only end one way for him.

Her thoughts have been chasing each other, and she flinches from the memory of gunfire. The sour tang of gunpowder left lingering in the air like some macabre perfume. It will pass, these horrible memories always do. but for the moment she can't breathe properly. As if her entire being is cinched up tight, as if ready to spring into action and avert the crisis in her mind.

"Lisbon?"

She blinks wearily, lifting her head from it's perch on her crossed arms on her desk. She was exhausted, the case had made her weary. As many of the traumatic ones did.

To her infinite surprise it was Patrick standing at the door to her office, his face an almost perfect picture of concern. Her foggy brain noted that he looked as sharp as he always did. impeccable vest buttoned over a business shirt and slacks. He must have a whole closet of the blasted things.

"Are you alright? You've seemed out of it since we got back."

She isn't surprised that he's noticed that. more that he'd bring it up. She waves his concerns away with a vague gesture of her right hand, muttering feebly, "I'm just tired."

A smile tugged at his lips, "you do remember who you're talking to…right?"

How could she forget? He haunted her dreams and waking hours equally. She let out a soft sigh, sinking back into her office chair. And for a moment her eyes fall closed, when she opens them he is startlingly close, kneeling in front of her. how long had she closed her eyes for?!

"You can't lie to me Lisbon. I know you. I know that you're blaming yourself for what went down, for not figuring it out fast enough, for not getting there fast enough."

He's too close, his eyes too intense for her to get her shields up in time. so the words struck her at her most vulnerable aching spots. Her breath rushes out in a painful exhalation through barely parted lips, "it was my fault Patrick. I should have been faster. I shouldn't have let anything slow us down."

She shudders as the images of a gunfight that should never have happened floated into her brain. the damn trigger happy sheriff had unceremoniously dumped her squad to the side and rushed ahead without them. she could still smell the blood, still hear the high horrified screaming of a child who watched their parents die at the hands of a murderer.

"Lisbon…Teresa…please. Listen to me…okay?"

The nod happens before she's even fully aware of consenting.

"You are not to blame here. you told them not to go in, you did everything you could. You can't keep beating yourself up over this."

To her immense surprise he hugs her.

For a second she is stunned into immobility. He doesn't hug her or anyone for that matter. But he's hugging her. She can smell peppermint and she knows that's from his tea. but she also catches a strong decisive whiff of his scent and his rich cologne. It played along her senses like a ghost.

Her body betrays her, her hands coming up to rest on his sides, her eyes sliding closed and her entire form relaxing into him. her breath escapes her in something that was almost a sob.

It's comforting, that's all it can be. She can feel the warmth he exuded, almost like a furnace. It was wonderful and she wanted to drink it in, absorb it through her skin so that her heart could keep beating.

His hands rub soothing motions on her back, holding her against him even as his curls tickle her ear.

"I didn't think you hugged people."

He chuckled, "I do when the occasion calls for it."

"if you pickpocket me I should warn you that I'll make sure you regret it."

"Promises, Promises"

She laughed. And it surprises her that she can. For the first time since she closed the case she can breathe again.

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_Authors note: See told you i'd get it up soon :D What do you guys think?_


	7. Chapter 7

Waking was a rather interesting experience. The last thing she remembered was Jane hugging her, letting her find solace in the contact of another who understood. Now it seemed that she was lying full length on her couch, comfortably tucked under a blanket.

The rich smell of coffee had been what awoken her, it caressed her senses and promised a proper wake up call if she could only reach out and take it. her eyes fluttered open, fighting against her desire to simply fall back asleep. The blanket was coarse, but she was incredibly comfortable, and it took her sleepy brain a few moments to realise that it was the same blanket that she'd put over Jane. That she'd tucked him in with.

Her brain kicked into high gear and she sat up quickly, intending on discovering what the hell had happened when her eyes happened to wander over her desk.

It was organised. The files she'd been sorting and filling out were meticulously ordered and place neatly in a pile. Whilst the act wasn't totally altruistic, he'd been after a chance to look through her files for a little while now, it was still nice of him. a faint smile curved her lips and she reached out for the coffee, closing her fingers around her favourite black mug.

The coffee itself was perfect, exactly the right amount of milk and sugar that she liked. Though that hadn't been too much of a surprise, he had watched her make it at least a dozen times, so he'd have picked up on her coffee habits by now. but it still made her feel a little special.

It took only a few moments for the coffee to work it's magic. To put a spring back in her step and give her the awareness required to stand up. it also gave her the clarity to realise what the rumour mill, that was so prevalent in any work group, would say if she were found wearing the same clothes that she was yesterday. Which is why it was a very good thing that she kept a spare set of clothes in her bottom drawer. This wasn't the first time she'd fallen asleep at work, nor was it the first time she'd needed to change whilst here. she locked the door and changed as quickly as she dared.

Patrick had left her coffee, had tucked her in on her couch and made her as comfortable as he could. Could it be her hard-nosed consultant actually did something nice for her?

She assured herself, with a quick check in the mirror, that she doesn't look like she'd spent last night sprawled out on her couch before opening her door and stepping out into the bustling room.

It was a normal day, people dashing back and forth, jovial conversation like a pleasant low hum over the whole place. She could catch fragments of conversation, bits and pieces of stories, but it all ended up as a kind of amalgamation of noise. As she crosses to the kitchen to rinse out her coffee mug she spots Jane sipping from his tea and chatting with Grace. As if he can sense her he glances up from his conversation, creating a void that Rigsby seems only too happy to quickly fill in.

Instead of the smug smile or slight mocking she expected, she received instead a look of concern, it seemed to ask 'Are you okay?'

She smiled, 'yes. thank you'.

Though no words had actually been spoken, he seemed to receive the message loud and clear because he lifted his cup in the tiniest of salutes before drinking from it again.

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_Authors note: O.O i am so sorry for the delay, i haven't had much chance to write, a very good friend of mine was admitted to hospital and so i've been spending my time with her. but have no fear ;) i haven't forgotten you guys, and a new update will be up much sooner this time, i promise :D_

_also, thank you to the guest reviews, you guys don't know how happy i am that you are enjoying the story and how nice it is to read the reviews :D please continue to let me know what you're thinking :D_


	8. Chapter 8

He has the most wonderful smile. Such small things, like two lips moving, muscles tightening and releasing somehow amalgamate to create a smile worth seeing. It isn't fair how that smile affects her so. It feels like a shot of adrenaline into her over-sensitised body, almost like her morning coffee. She finds herself craving it, both the smile and the feeling it gives her as time drags on.

His professional smiles aren't the same, though they could appear to be. Because despite not being a super observant once pretend psychic, she can tell when it isn't real. It doesn't feel the same, and it certainly doesn't give her the warmth his true smiles do.

Those moments when she catches him doing something she told him not to. She knows she should be angry, and she most definitely is, but when he smiles at her. the smile of a boy caught with his fingers in the cookie jar an hour before dinner, it's very hard to maintain that anger.

Does he know the effect of his smiles on her?

She can't see how he wouldn't. he's very good at manipulating people, and the only way to do that is to notice how they react to certain stimuli. and that makes her paranoid. What if he knows about her silly infatuation with him?

About this terrible need she's harbouring in her heart to just touch him. to feel his skin beneath her fingertips, his mouth against her own, that silver tongue duelling and dancing within her mouth. To hear that delightful voice whisper wicked things in her ear.

But it wasn't just a carnal need. No. if it was she could deal with it, could relieve it in some other way. She wouldn't be hurt by the things he did or didn't do. she wouldn't feel this stupid elation when he truly smiled at her or complimented her, as if she'd done something worth praising.

He sits across from her, in his usual place of comfort. His fingers delicately gripping the blue and white china cup full of tea and holding it above the matching mini plate. His focus, was not on her, but rather on Rigsby as they bantered back and forth. There was a devilish gleam in his eyes, a mischievous tilt to his mouth as he inexorably outwitted the young agent.

She is grateful for this moment to just observe him in action without him noticing her presence. It gives her a second to just think about him.

He is a constant pain in her ass, makes her life almost endlessly difficult. She'd certainly have it easier without him, without his ability to turn ordinary situations into volatile ones. But she can't even be angry about it. Why?

And that's when the realisation occurs.

That's when her breath catches almost inaudibly and her heart gives such a painful twist. She almost puts a hand against her chest to check it's still beating, that it hasn't been torn out. Her traitorous eyes sting and fill with water and it's all she can do to stumble out of the room towards the elevator. She couldn't go to her office, not if they'd noticed her break. They'd bother her or pester her with questions. And Jane would read her.

It's a hot and humiliated ache that spreads out from her breastbone, enveloping her in this kind of emotional agony. She can only hope that she can hold it together long enough to make it to her car. It's times like these she's thankful she has sunglasses.

She makes it, no one seeming the wiser. And once she's locked the doors she gives herself a moment. a moment to let the tears fall. To just be weak.

Because she loves him. and he doesn't love her back.

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_Authors note: See, a little less time than last time :) not much mind you, but still less ;)_


	9. Chapter 9

She dries her tears, using up her lunch hour to let her eyes recover. If Patrick had seen her he wouldn't stop probing till she spilled her guts. And she certainly wasn't an accomplished enough liar to slip anything past him.

He'd probably question her on this, but she could simply refuse to answer him. But if she went back with puffy red eyes and tear stained cheeks he wouldn't let himself ignore it.

What the hell was she going to do?!

She catches her eyes in the rear view mirror and snorts. Okay that was silly. Of course she knew what to do. She'd go back in there and pretend. Pretend that she was alright. Pretend that her heart wasn't breaking. Act as though she didn't want to jump him on that damn couch and snog him senseless.

She was an agent after all. She'd survived worse.

Her reflection was neat again, impeccable makeup over smooth pale skin. not even a hint of her breakdown. She looked, once more, like the tough as nails agent Lisbon.

So when she glided back into the CBI building there was no hint of her realisation, no indication that she'd been upset.

And if she avoided his gaze or speaking to him, then it seemed no one was the wiser.

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_Authors note: Sorry about the short chapter, but there's something of a natural disaster taking place. i'm okay, but my place has become a madhouse with the various friends seeking refuge here. Some of whom still have family members within the at risk areas._

_So my thoughts are with them, and those that they have not yet recovered._

_The next chapter will be longer i promise, and the 'M' rated parts are coming soon._

_also, thank you so much to the reviewers, i love you guys :D_

_Please keep letting me know what you think :D_


	10. Chapter 10

"You're ignoring me."

Her breath caught as his voice echoed out around her office. She'd hoped he wouldn't react to it, hope he'd just leave it be.

"No I'm not Jane. I'm just busy."

The lie felt weak on her tongue. And she knew he'd see through it, and she knew that everything she was doing was hiding from him. She refused to look up from her desk, making out that she was actually working. But he'd effectively put a stop to that with just his presence. Any time he was around he filled up her head and took her attention away from important things.

She heard the door close and the lock click into place. Her stomach rolled with tension and she gave everything she had not to react to that simple sound.

"You should really know better by now than to lie to me Lisbon."

She tries again, aiming for more conviction in her tone as she scrawls across one of her reports, "I'm really busy Jane. Can we do this another time?"

Suddenly he plucked the pen from her hands, drawing a sigh from her throat. Normally she'd get angry. Yell or threaten until she got the pen back. but she simply didn't have it in her anymore. She simply reached over and picked up another pen before attempting to get back to work.

"Come on Teresa, talk to me."

Her breath hitched at his use of her given name. it sounded wonderful dropping off his tongue, in that sexy voice of his.

"I already told you. I'm busy. Come back when I'm not."

It comes out sharper than she intended, but she cannot apologise. She'd lose ground, lose momentum and he'd spin her around again.

Her mistake was not keeping an eye on him.

Suddenly her chair was turned forcefully to the left, and as the occupant she had no choice but to go along. She ended up face to face with the one man she could never truly ignore, never forget no matter how much she tried to.

"Two days Teresa. You've been ignoring me for two days. I want to know why. Have I done something wrong? I don't remember being rude or even getting you into trouble. So why?"

His hands were clenched on the arms of her chair, his face closer to hers than it had any right being. She felt caged in. but instead of wanting to run away like she should, instead of the panic that should be there, she felt safe.

"I'm…"

As her lips parted to dismiss him, to conjure up some other lie, it died at the look in his eyes. He was vulnerable. Patrick Jane never showed any kind of vulnerability if he could help it. he spoke then, his voice a low whisper, "We're friends aren't we? I don't know what I did Teresa. But please tell me. tell me so I can apologize."

She suddenly realises what it must be like from his point of view. Her sudden withdrawal from him. Of course his vulnerability could be a ploy to satisfy his curiosity. But it didn't feel like that. it felt genuine.

"It's not you Jane. You haven't done anything. it's just…"

"Just what?"

Her admission is soft, "I can't do this."

He rushes to reassure her, "of course you can. You're the super agent remember? My handler for years. There's no crime that you can't face."

Frustration rolls inside her, "No that isn't what I meant."

He cocks his head to the side, assessing her with all his deductive capabilities, "what did you mean?"

And suddenly she was tired. Tired of running, of pretending. And that part of her that had tortured her with such sweet delicious fantasies of her favourite consultant rose up. commandeering her body and driving her forward. She didn't even have a second to think before her mouth pressed against his. before her hand buried itself in those soft blonde curls.

Her eyes had closed automatically. But his lips were immobile beneath hers. And she felt the sting of rejection keenly. She pulled back. His eyes were wide with shock, his grip loosened on the chair. A quiet, sane part of her mind not currently occupied by her overwhelming panic and rejection noted that she'd never seen him so surprised.

"I'm…I'm sorry."

She manages feebly, her voice soft and horrified. She felt perilously close to tears as she stood up, forcing him backwards. She fled, knowing that she may very well have ruined everything.

For a first kiss, that had really left something to be desired. And it certainly wasn't something she'd dreamed about. The merest brush of skin against skin. Although his lips were soft, yielding beneath her own insistent pressure. But they hadn't parted. He hadn't responded.

At least now she knew for sure. now there was no chance her traitorous mind could torment her with in her weaker moments. He didn't feel the same.

She'd be fine. Somehow. She was a strong woman after all, and no one had ever died from a broken heart. No doubt she'd pretend. They'd both pretend that it hadn't happened. That she hadn't royally fucked things up between them. Tonight she'd let herself hurt. Then tomorrow she'd put the mask back on and be the agent she had to be.

* * *

_Authors note: I'm sorry about the length of the chapters, it's just more convenient for me to write them this way. i don't really have a lot of time, but i do enjoy writing, so i'll do what i can when i can :D_

_anyway, don't fret! this isnt the end of the story, though it may seem that way :D_

_Thank you to those that have reviewed, i do love reading your opinions, please keep them coming :D_

_~Red_


	11. Chapter 11

There was nothing good on TV. But she watched it anyway. She needed something to pretend with.

It was just an ordinary night, and it had been an ordinary day. she had, in no way, done something that had screwed up everything. She'd even ordered pizza as if to convince herself of that.

The rain lashed against her windows, seemingly in agreement with her miserable mood, acting in counterpoint to the gunfire on TV. It was some silly action movie that was all explosions and little plot. Strangely comforting in its predictability.

Tears fell in a steady rhythm on her face, she ignored them, even as they streamed down onto her cheeks and neck. She couldn't, wouldn't, hold them back. Slowly, painfully, they stopped, drying on her cheeks as she threw her mind into the movie.

Some time later her doorbell rang, shaking her from her almost desperate immersion in the movie. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and stood up. A chill draft made her shiver, then hesitate about going over to the door. she was dressed in a large t-shirt with panties underneath.

She shook her head, it was late, whoever it was would simply have to deal.

As she moved towards the door some stupid small part of her hoped that it was Jane. That he had decided to, in the abandonment of reality, follow her home and finish what she started in her office.

That fantasy lasted until she opened the door.

It was the pizza guy.

Damn.

She paid him with a tight smile on her face, taking the pizza she no longer felt like eating and as soon as she could, shut the door.

What a foolish thing to believe. She hesitated by her door, contemplating whether or not it was more expedient to put it in the fridge.

This wasn't a romance novel. This wasn't some silly little soap opera. The tough heroine doesn't always get the prince. She knows that. and for some foolish moments she forgot, let her hope overwrite reality.

She carried the pizza to the kitchen. There was no point in eating it now, she didn't feel hungry at all.

"Pizza tonight? Good I'm starving."

She damn near jumped out of her skin, whirling around to face the intruder. Only to be struck dumb.

Patrick stood there, soaked to the bone by rain. Yet the mere sight of him made things low in her body clench almost uncomfortably. The sopping fabric clung to him like a second skin, the unruly blonde curls had been tamed, they lay slick against his head. but his eyes, his eyes were what kept her captivated. They sparkled with amusement.

"Cat got your tongue?" he questioned.

Her breath whooshed out of her lungs, allowing her to draw a sharp breath, "Patrick? What are you doing here?"

Jane advanced on her, that cat like gait in no way diminished by the water dripping onto her floor. "I think you know why I'm here. Don't you Teresa?"

She didn't even realise she'd been retreating till her back pressed against the smooth polished metal of her fridge. Her fingers clutched the pizza box like a lifeline. He smiled a very wicked little smile, the kind he got before everything in his con fell into place.

"you started something today Lisbon."

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. He tugged the pizza box out of her unresisting hands and put it aside on the counter. She was hovering between joy and despair. Was he here because he felt the same? or because he wanted to needle her? to mock her and keep this chink in her armour open for availability when he needed something from her?

Whoever said love was grand was an asshole.

Love was a dangerous painful thing. made worse when the one you loved was dangerous man.

* * *

_Authors note: thank you all so much :D i'm glad you're enjoying it._

_Please continue to let me know what you think, it really lifts my spirits :D_

_as for the disaster, it seems to be under control, but you never really know with things like this, so tomorrow could bring worse news. Anyway i'm safe for tonight and that's what matters :D I'll try to get the next chapter up soon._


	12. Chapter 12

Patrick Jane studied her with a practiced stare. Watching as emotion flew across her face like one would watch the racing storm clouds. He was fascinated, that much she could tell. And she desperately wanted to shield herself. But there was nothing she could do. She was vulnerable, at war with her innermost thoughts.

Caught between humiliation and desire, between what was proper and right and what she wanted. She should shove him away, drop down her perfect agent mask and force him to back off. He already had enough to ruin her, to take her apart at the seams.

But the other part of her was desperately wishing he'd show her what a real kiss was with him. What he was like with a woman he wanted back. that silver tongue of his was very dexterous in talking, and the dreams she had couldn't all be wrong.

Both sides were loud enough to her, too hard to choose between. She wanted him. but she wasn't allowed to want him. She loved him, but it couldn't be.

A faint smile crossed his lips, and he murmured softly, "Ah."

Ah?

Then he was suddenly there, pressing his mouth against hers. He took advantage of her surprised inhalation, using it to slip his silver tongue into her mouth. his taste was sweet, hot and decadent. Like a thick suckable candy that she just had to drink in. his tongue danced with hers, learning the contours of her mouth with gentle motions. But there was a ferocity in it, an almost desperate element to the kiss. His hand had buried itself in her hair, giving her no chance to back away, even if she'd wanted to.

Her hands however had not been idle, one fisted in the sodden fabric of his shirt, the other tangled in the slick blonde curls, holding him against her as tightly as she dared. He shifted, pressing his body against hers and forcing her flatter against the fridge. She could feel his clothes gradually dampening hers, but she didn't care. there wasn't any notion of cold. Her senses were on fire, wide open and cataloguing everything she could in this moment.

She'd been right. his kiss was incredible. How had he learned to do this? she'd never been so consumed, so filled with wanting from just a kiss. Small, soft, eager noises erupted from her throat and he swallowed them before they could become fully fledged words. He kissed her as if he was a starving man at a feast.

It was as if she couldn't be close enough to him. She was rapidly running out of air, but nothing could convince her to break away. She was kissing Patrick Jane. The untouchable, snarky, know it all consultant. She was kissing him, and if the state of him was any indication, he was just as excited to be kissing her.

He pulled back, and for a moment she fought to keep his mouth on hers. His fingers tightened, ever so slightly, before their lips parted with a soft pop.

They both caught their breaths, slowing from the frantic panting that the kiss had put them at, to a more normal rate.

It was then she'd noticed he'd completely soaked the front of her clothes. Not that she minded really. The words dropped from her lips in a breathy whisper before she had a chance to censor herself, "You've made me all wet."

His eyes widened comically and he grinned, "High praise Lisbon."

She flushed, all the way up to her hairline, cursed fair skin, "that isn't what I meant."

He chuckled at her, and she was torn between kissing him again, or strangling him. this time it was a full bodied laugh, "I'm not sure strangling me will be conducive to anything tonight, dear Teresa."

Yeah. definitely leaning towards strangling now.

He released his tight grip on her hair, running his fingers through the locks gently to smooth them out, "How did you get in here Jane?"

Patrick simply raised an eyebrow and she chuckled, "right, you and your lock-picks."

She'd considered simply stealing them from him, but knowing him the ones he carried were not his only set. And that would only provoke him.

She desperately wanted to ask why he was here. Was it just to confirm that she was hopelessly and desperately in love with him? was it to prove to himself that he could still have a brain melting effect on women? Damn him for not speaking. Normally she was outgoing in her relationships, able to ask for what she wanted. but there had never been anyone that meant as much as he did. and she was so damn terrified of screwing something up, of shattering this wonderful fantasy and sending him running for the hills.

His face was inscrutable as he observed her. and she felt compelled to speak, her mouth opening uselessly before words failed her and she glanced away. What did this kiss mean?

His fingers gently pressed under her chin, bringing her face back so he could look into her eyes again.

"What a curious thing Lisbon. You shouldn't love me. It defies logic, simple lust or even heartfelt sentimentality. I've hurt you, time and time again. Gotten you in more trouble than you needed and ignored you when I shouldn't have."

All true points. And she could feel the most peculiar sensation starting in her chest. A weightlessness feeling, like the second before a death defying drop on a rollercoaster.

He continued, his voice mesmerizing, "Logic would have talked you out of it. because I'm not good for you. I'm a liar, a broken man, so filled up with a need for revenge that I can barely get my mind off of Red John."

Her breath feathered out of barely parted lips. Part of her wished that he'd hurry up and say it. Say that this was the only thing they could have. This one kiss. Then they had to return to being co-workers with that painfully defined line between them. But the other part, a more hopeful part wanted to linger a little longer in disbelief. Until he actually said it, until his voice actually framed the words, it wouldn't hurt her. Until he shattered the illusion, she could pretend.

"Sentimentality only lasts as long as you believe there is some worth to it. Some point in making the gesture. But you never thought that there was. You never expected me to be thankful, or that I would change as a result of those gestures. You could, of course, be attracted to the hopeless stereotype of trying to heal me. but you aren't. You would love me, but wouldn't be in love with me if that were the case. You don't fall for men that need you to take care of them, not to that degree."

His gaze was intense, as if she was a puzzle he was still figuring out. And in a way, she was.

"the only other option then, is Lust. But lust fades if you get hurt. And I've hurt you. I'm not so callous that I haven't noticed."

Her breath caught. 'Here it comes' her traitorous mind whispered.

"I've tried so hard to be good. to stay away from you, from starting anything with you. not because I didn't want to. But because you're too good for me Lisbon. You're a kind of angel, intent on changing the world for the better every time you step out of that door. I can't drag you down with me. if he got his hands on you because of me…I'd never recover."

Her heart was thundering in her chest, she was still balanced on that knife's edge.

"Hurting you, protected you. Made you safe. as long as we were just colleagues, you didn't have a greater chance than anyone of being taken. And I could have kept going like that."

"Unless?"

Her voice is barely a whisper, the tightness in her chest constricting her lungs with the barest edge of panic.

"Unless you did exactly what you did today. Unless you pressed these perfect little lips against mine. I'm not a saint, Teresa."

He leaned in and kissed her lightly, the barest brush of flesh against flesh.

"I am. At my core." He breathed against her lips, "A very selfish person. Having tasted you Little Lisbon, I cannot step back, I am unwilling to let you go of my own accord. So tell me no, say it now. Say you don't want this and I'll believe it. We'll go back to being just friends."

He seemed to be pleading with her. Offering her a way out. Or begging for her to take it.

"But you don't want me to. Do you Patrick?"

She doesn't know where the huskiness in her voice comes from, only that the effect on him is flattering to say the least. A shiver rolls down his spine, making him convulse ever so slightly. His hands splayed on the fridge beside her and he leaned into her. he inhaled deeply.

"No. I don't. but say it anyway."

"I…"

She should. for all the heat and fireworks they could create together, they aren't supposed to work.

* * *

_Authors note: I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story :D_

_please continue to let me know what you think :D_

_also. yes, i'm a little cruel in leaving you there, but i'm hard at work already on the next one, so hopefully i wont make you wait too long :)_


	13. Chapter 13

She should tell him to go. To walk away and return this to being just friends. It's the safer option in the long run. But she's tired of loving only the job. Because on the cold nights, when the darkness seems sinister. When everything makes her low, the Job doesn't pick her up again, it doesn't give her butterflies in her belly or a warm tingling across her senses. But Jane does.

"I love you. I know that isn't what you want me to say. But I can't lie. Not like this. I want you."

He let out a soft groan and pressed his forehead against hers. Her eyes fluttered closed, unable to take the pain she could see in his face. as soon as her eyes closed her other senses went into overdrive. she could smell the clean fresh scent of the rain mixed in with the barest hint of expensive cologne. His breath has a hint of peppermint and a sudden insight told her that he'd probably had a cup to calm his nerves before seeking her out. it's what he did in stressful situations after all.

"Teresa."

His voice was soft with a harsh edge. But in it was something warm.

"if we do this. I'll be by you all the time. I can't lose you." He paused then, his entire body tightened, as if preparing himself to fight off some unpleasant thing. he continued hoarsely, " I won't lose you. So it means I'll be paranoid about your safety. I'll protect you with everything I am. Which means I'm probably going to be an ass."

She chuckled, "How is that different from normal?"

"My protecting you?, or my being an ass?"

"You being an ass."

"that wont change. In fact, it may even get worse." He chuckled, and his breath washed over her face. She wanted to open her eyes and see his face, but she feared seeing the pain on it.

"I'm a big girl Jane. I can look after myself. Have done for years. I look after you most days, which is much more difficult. Considering that you seem to pick a fight with every rich slightly obnoxious guy we meet."

Another laugh, but this one was warmer. And when he spoke next it was back to the gentle refined teasing voice she adored.

"They irk me."

She grinned and completed, "they're irksome."

He pulled back slightly, and she took that cue to open her eyes.

"Last chance. Back out now."

She had a better answer. Her hands came up and grabbed his head, pulling it back to hers and holding it there so she could plant a kiss on his mouth. He groaned and sunk into her, letting his body press her against the fridge again.

This kiss was shorter though, broken apart by his shivering that had nothing to do with lust, and everything to do with the soaked clothes he was wearing. She stared up into his eyes, noting how the pupils had dilated, almost eclipsing the iris. He wanted her. Patrick Jane, the ever irritating unobtainable con man, really did want her. It was a heady thing to realize.

"You're going to catch a cold if you stay in those sopping clothes."

"Agent Lisbon, are you asking me to strip?"

She grinned impishly at him, stroking his face with her fingers before pressing lightly. The slight increase in pressure directed him backwards. He obeyed and she stepped out of his grip, taking a few steps towards her stairs before throwing him a teasing smile over her shoulder, "I'm going to have a shower. I might be convinced to allow you to join me."

His reaction was unexpected. In two great steps he was by her side, a second later he literally picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder. She let out a startled yelp and would have berated him, but her laughter came up first, bubbling out of her lips before she could stop it.

"Damn it Jane! Put me down this instant!"

"no, I don't think I will." His tone was gently teasing as he bounded up the stairs.

"I mean it! put me down! Or I swear I'll spank you."

"promises, promises." He purred back, his laughter reverberating through her.

Her fingers slid across his back, just above the pant line. She heard his breath hitch, "I wouldn't. You'll regret it."

"Put me down then."

"Nope."

So she let her hand raise and fall, landing with a solid smack across his ass. He let out an almost undignified yelp and skipped a step. "You little-" he cut himself off before quickening his pace.

When they entered the bathroom, she was confused. Then when he walked into the shower, still fully clothed. It clicked, and she began to struggle in earnest. "Don't be stupid Patrick! Let me go!"

He chuckled and with one hand turned the shower knob. She screeched as the ice cold water tumbled over her. Soaking her almost instantly. He laughed as she struggled, eventually letting her slide down to her feet in front of him. She looked up realising, not for the first time, how much taller he was to her. He turned so that his back bore the brunt of the warmer water, keeping it from splashing into her eyes.

His hands rubbed up and down her arms, helping her warm up a little. the steam began to rise as the water struck the cool tile, turning the air warmer with each passing second. But she could see from the ever so slightly smug smile on his face what was really going through his mind.

"You may as well say it. You won't be happy until you do."

His grin got wider, "Told you so."

It was drawn out, in a kind of sing song voice.

She just shook her head.

Evil man.

* * *

_Authors note: I'm having a lot of fun with writing this, so i'm glad you guys are enjoying it as well :D Please keep letting me know what you think i absolutely adore getting reviews._

_Ta for now, _

_Madam Red_


	14. Chapter 14

It seemed to dawn on them both that they were standing in the shower, fully clothed. Which was not exactly conducive to anything either of them had in mind. She moved without thinking, lifting her dripping hands to gently unbutton his vest.

How long had her fingers itched to do this? and now that it was happening she could hardly keep her fingers from trembling as she carefully slipped each button free. He was utterly still, like a bird locked in the eyes of a snake. Almost as if he was poised to take flight. And she realised, as she did this. as her fingers neatly undid his vest and started working on the business shirt, she was taking away the last of the barriers between them.

The business shirt clung to him, sticking to his skin and giving her an idea of exactly what lay beneath his usually pristine clothes. She was still giving him a chance, she realised. A chance to suddenly decide that no, this wasn't what he wanted. that he wasn't up to the task.

As the last buttons of his shirt came free she pulled, letting it hang open as she was treated to the sight of his chest. He looked like a wet dream come to life. Shirt hanging open, dripping with water. eyes burning with barely constrained lust. She placed her hands gently on his chest, and they both let out a shaky breathy laugh. She was caught off guard by how vulnerable he seemed. As if that cocky demeanour had faded and she was finally seeing through his barriers to him.

Ever so slowly she slid her hands upwards, pushing at the now open shirt and vest, peeling them away from his skin. Teresa moved forward, operating purely on instinct now. Her head came to rest against his chest, nuzzling the fine lines gently. His arms came up and wrapped around her, holding her close to him.

For a moment they just stood. Just felt the life from the other. She drank in some of his warmth, and in return he took some of her peace.

But she couldn't be this close to him, this close to getting what she wanted and remain still for very long. Her fingers slid down to his waist. Then gently across the skin just above the belt of his pants. He sucked in a breath and his arms tightened briefly. But he seemed content to let her direct this. it's a heady thing, having power over him. and she loves it.

With surprising deft fingers, she blindly undoes his shiny silver buckle. It makes a curious metallic sound as she slides it free and tosses it to the side of her shower. Her fingers sought out the zipper of his pants. As she brushed her hand against him, he jerked against her. and already she was eager to find out exactly what the infuriating man kept hidden beneath his clothes. She undid the zipper and something pressed against her abdomen. It was then that she figured out he'd gone commando today. What a wonderfully lucky day for her. she thought to herself, a wicked smile crossing her lips.

Patrick shifted his hips restlessly, as if to help the slacks fall to the ground. with them as waterlogged as they are, they stuck to his skin. with that wicked grin still on her lips she looked up at him and hooked her fingers into the waistband of his pants. If it's possible his eyes practically ignite as she slid his pants down his legs. Bypassing the part of him that seemed so very eager for her attention seemed cruel to her, but she figured he could stand a little cruelty. After all he had just drenched her in icy water.

He steps out of the slacks, and she places her hands on either side of his waist as she stands, flexing her fingers at the illicit contact. he swallows, a simple contraction of muscles in his throat. But she knows she's gotten to him. she knows that he isn't hiding now, because she's broken through that ironclad control.

His eyes were wide, almost too wide, but not with fear. They were clouded with arousal, yet somehow sharp. As if he was committing all of this to memory. All of her.

She murmured softly, "I used to dream that you'd look at me like that."

He shivered, but a good kind of shiver.

She realised that those were the first words to be said since she'd started undressing him. his hands settled on her shoulders, sliding up to her neck and cupping her face with such gentle reverence that she couldn't help but shiver. He kissed her, and it was a slow devouring. A languorous dance of tongue against tongue. He was mapping her mouth, exploring her.

She pulled back, breaking the kiss with a brilliant smile. She saw his confusion flicker across his face before she all but whispered, "I think it's time we introduced ourselves. Your little friend and I."

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and his gaze instantly focused on her mouth. Shock, awe and instant heat crossed his face as she slowly cupped him in her hands. He was large enough that she couldn't quite fit her fingers all the way around it. Curious, she let her hand slide back and forth, learning the texture of him. he was heavy in her hands, silky soft and incredibly hot. She kept her eyes on his face however, learning every reaction. Absorbing every breathy pant through those pretty lips.

"I guess a good old fashioned handshake will have to do." she purred. He ended up backed against the cool tile wall, head thrown back in agonised ecstasy. His hands flexed, opening and closing as he fought to stay still under her touch, to give her the control she wanted. But what she really wanted was for that finely honed control to snap.

His body suddenly tenses, his hands darting up to grip her head and crush his mouth to hers. Her other hand automatically goes to the back of his neck, so when the touch of her tongue against his, her little moan is swallowed by his mouth. it starts a chain reaction, and she can feel it. the muscles in his neck tense, and she knows that his back has done the same as his hips thrust into her hand. he cannot stay still now. He cannot remain impartial to her any longer. She wont let him.

Patrick almost growls into her mouth, breaking the kiss, the feral sound precluding his release. She milks him, slowing her gestures enough that it didn't amp him up again. she cannot, and she does not want to, help the small self satisfied smile that crosses her lips at his hoarsely muttered, "Lisbon."

He leans into her. Resting his head in the crook of her shoulder, letting her shoulder his weight until he can gather the strength to stand on his own again.

Teresa is happy to hold him up. In a way she always has been.

* * *

_Authors note: Exams are not fun. especially when people practically demand for you to tutor them in between trying to study for yourself. it's a bitch._

_anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this chapter. i'm not finished yet :D_

_keep those reviews coming, they always make me smile, and i could use some reasons to smile in this mess of a time lol._

_~Madam Red._


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